The Unanticipated Voyage
by CannonRebel
Summary: Rory, a photojournalist student is taking a trip abroad to follow an archaeological dig for her final project. But when her teams Jeep breaks down on the way back to base she finds a glittering white gem in the sand, and when she wakes up suddenly no longer finding herself surrounded by sand and sweaty diggers but trees and… hairy men?
1. Burnin' Up

Everyone's seen the mummy, right? Where Brendan Fraser is on an archaeological dig in an ancient city and awakens a mummy; and it's all running around in sand while sweating as everyone is looking sexy and ripped and perfect? If for some reason you've been hiding in a cabin in the woods, shitting behind rocks with the bears- no TV in sight for lord knows how long- you should go rent it and watch it so you can understand my predicament.

Because unlike our dearest Brendon, I am not attractive while I sweat nor am I ripped to the perfection of a god. In fact, if I'm being perfectly honest with myself (which I'm finding out tends to happen when you can see your death in front of your eyes) I'm quite…Soft. I'm not proud of my insane love for ice cream but it's there, and no matter how many breaks we've taken from one another we always find our way back.

I'm losing focus.

Heat does that.

I should actually back track so you know what I'm talking about. Because I don't remember any off topic ramblings in the Mummy, which actually has nothing to do with me, besides these key things- sand, heat, and sweat.

The desert is not a place for an out of shape art student who spends most of her time pounding down espressos with her face hidden behind a lens of a camera. Definitely not the place for one who sweats when the shower is left running too hot. But here I am, on an archaeological excavation watching the masters at work while I hide behind my camera and snap away. Photojournalism at its finest. My hair is sopped against my forehead, my shirt sticking to my chest. I swear the sun is so close I could reach out and get third degree burns. I'm living the dream, truly.

When I reached out to my friends for ideas on my final I had no idea I'd get sucked into the idea of rolling around the desert where sand gets shoved up any crack and crevice on your body- and sweating out about 6 gallons of fluid a day. But when Tyler told me he was going on the dig and "It wasn't even hot this time of year" I said yes. Because what if they did uncover something amazing and I could have been the one to take the first shots? I couldn't pass it up.

It wasn't bad at first, we came around 6, the cooling off period. Which I didn't know kept going until it felt like I was in a sandy Antarctica. And still I thought I could handle it if I just got used to it. But two weeks later I'm still that huffing mess of body odor that's falling all over the place trying to follow these seasoned professionals. So when I was asked if I wanted to follow along two others who were going off site to look and got to ride in a car- well I jumped at the chance.

And now the car broke down. We have no idea how long it will take us to walk and no one is answering their walkie talkies. Probably because they don't reach this far.

"Should we start walking, Miles?" Jenna, a petite blonde with the body of Twiggy asked. "We could at least make it some of the way before the sun goes down."

"We wouldn't be able to carry all the water we need. Besides, what would we do once the sun sets? Take shelter behind a cactus?" I liked Miles. He was snarky- a big bold checkmark in my book. He was older, around forty with salt and pepper hair that wasn't ever brushed and fell over his thick dark glasses. Think Harry Potter's dad if he had lived that long.

"I just think it'd do us good to try to make some progress."

"Jenna, you know as well as I do that walking around this area is dangerous. What if we got caught in a sand storm? Ran out of water? This isn't LA, we can't hop a cab to the next gas station for a bottle of water and air conditioning." Jenna crossed her arms and turned her head away. She was a new recruit, and apparently didn't get the memo that her profession of choice wasn't movie style glamorous either. Sucks to be us.

"Well what are we going to do? Because I've got a bladder full enough to fill a camels hump and I'm not going where you can hear me." I cut in. "I can't even handle public bathrooms." I'm not being dramatic either, there's just something unnervingly disgusting about hearing each other go that I could never get over. Even after 23 years.

Miles looked around, pointing to the right of the covered Jeep we took out today. There are a couple cacti over there where we were digging. Just be careful and come right back." I gave a salute and started trudging my way through the sand, the tall boots I wore to tuck my pants in weighing me down in the heat beating on my back.

I'm not proud to say it took me about 20 minutes to reach the dig site. The only thing distinguishing it from any other part of the desert was the short poles with rope around it to lay out the perimeter. The white rope hung there, glaringly bright in the midday sun contrasting greatly with the equally bright golden sand that stretched on for eons. I went over to the cacti and did the business. Then went over and stared at the site some more. It wasn't large, about the size of a wrestling arena. Though there were an uncharacteristically large amount of cacti around almost like they were hiding the site. It was the one thing that gave them enough interest to think to look there. They hadn't found anything promising all day, and I was ready to call it a bust, because at least at the original sight they were finding interesting sediments that whispered promises of something greater buried below.

I was just about to turn back after taking a drink from my water bottle when I caught a glimpse of something. It was blinding for a split second as the light reflected out and into my peripheral, not the normal glare of the sand that I'd become accustomed to in the few weeks I'd been there. Something else, something different. So, against my better judgment I slipped under the hot white rope and waded over to where the glare had come from. Something was jutting out of the sand, probably uncovered by the half hour of wind we had gotten earlier. Bending down I brushed away more sand and pulled it out.

It was huge and white, bigger than my fist and glittered miraculously- prisms within it shedding rainbows whenever it was moved. It was heavy, a gem like nothing I'd ever seen before. I stepped on the heel of my foot, ready to turn and yell towards Jenna and Miles that there had in fact been something here when my hands suddenly felt alight with fire. I screamed and tried to drop the gem, but my hands wouldn't move. I shook my arms, trying to get the smell of melting flesh out of my nose, trying to cool them off and let go of the damn gem but to no avail.

Then suddenly, the burning stopped, and I could faintly hear Jenna and Miles yelling at me as I was engulfed in a giant tornado of sand. The sharp pellets shooting in my mouth burning my throat, scratching my eyes and filling my ears. Along with the pain of being ripped apart by the sand I felt a surprising weightlessness, as if I were being lifted into the air before the pain became too unbearable, and my lungs too full of the foreign substance to keep conscious any longer.


	2. Chubaka Babies

_Whew, I had written the entire first half of this when my computer decided its battery was too low and quit on me. Thank god for auto save. I know it's early to post a second chapter buuut, my baby fell asleep and I didn't feel like cracking open a book yet. Thank you to_ _ **Guest (Obsessed reader)**_ _and_ _ **skepticalfox**_ _for reviewing. I'm so glad you liked the first one. I'm really hoping after re-reading the first story I had on here that I'll get my inspiration back and keep on with that one. Or maybe just rewrite it all together. Three years without an actual computer is too long._

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you were falling and it seemed like it would never end? Like you fell through the rabbit hole and that one scene was stuck on repeat? Once my senses came back all I could feel was air on my back, my hair whipping upwards around my face, and a buzzing inside my head, like something was trying to get inside- but like a TV that lost reception there was only grey static.

This went on for what seemed like hours, when suddenly it stopped. The wind halted, my hair dropped, and I was floating. Hovering in a pitch black abyss that stretched on further than I cared to know, and that buzzing became louder- bordering on piercing, like a thousand bees filling my head. The pressure inside my mind increased until it felt like my eyes were going to explode and as quickly as I stopped falling sound streamed through my head. The bees disappeared and made way for voices. The most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard, mingling and arguing in a striking symphony of words that I was trying to wrap my muddled thoughts around. I caught bits and pieces. No one was supposed to get hurt, someone was supposed to do research on traveling through worlds, someone needed healing.

It was then I felt a cooling sensation throughout my body and the melody of voiced dropped to a single one. Bell-like and musical, like a few birds singing to each other in the summer, there was no face to this voice, but it rang loud and clear through my ears.

"We're so sorry, Aurora. You weren't supposed to leave in this condition." She said, and for a moment I was confused. Firstly because only my Nan ever called me Aurora (Unless I was in trouble then my mom had a go at it), and lastly because I couldn't figure out what she meant by being hurt.

It was then the cooling reached my hands and I lurched forward, the memories of the glittering gem melding itself to my flesh coming back, the pain returning as the cooling tried to sooth it back.

"I will mend it, child. Though I would not touch that stone again; it seems this world's magic is woven too deeply within it to be much good for you."

And all I could think to say was, "It's Rory. My name. I mean it is Aurora but that's so damn old." The voice laughed, the feeling in my hands steadily returning. "What was that thing?"

"It is called the Arkenstone, Rory of Earth. It is the reason you are hear…" And she told me, of dragons and gold and divine rights to rule. All because of this stone, this heart of a mountain that caused death and destruction and sickness. She told me a story that I thought I should know, of people that sounded vaguely familiar- though I couldn't fathom why. She told me that I was the one who was chosen to help, that I wasn't supposed to get hurt, but because I did they believe it was because it rejected me. Which meant I was the one to clean up the mess that wasn't supposed to be made.

"This is crazy. Shit like this isn't real. This isn't Harry Potter, I never got my letter. I don't own a goddamn time-turner." I said, the information bubbling up and my mind declining the jumbled mess of what it was told. "This is the heat stroke. I finally over did it and I'm in some kind of hallucination. Maybe I drank from a bad cactus. If it can happen with mushrooms it can happen with a cactus."

Looking back I probably looked and sounded like a lunatic, which is probably right, because all the tinkling voice did was laugh and suddenly that all too familiar free-falling feeling was back.

I landed, the breath leaving my lungs as the air flew out, my back hitting something hard with a loud _thunk_ followed by the cracking of who knows how many bones. I laid there, eyes closed, trying to regain my breath, sense of self, sense of _anything_. I don't know how long I lay there, probably not long at all- when I heard a rustling. My eyes snapped open, because nothing _rustles_ in the desert. I sat up, my back protesting with every inch. I scanned the area, all luscious greens and browns and _foliage_.

"What the hell." I whispered as I turned yet again, only to be met with the color grey. I looked up, and came face-to-face with an odd old man. Tall, wearing grey robes, his face past the point of any discernible age with the winding, deep, cavernous wrinkles that lived there. His beard was white and lengthy, dropping down to his knees at least, and atop his head was a large and in charge pointed grey hat.

"Dumbledor?" Maybe I was in some freaky Harry Potter. Was the Arkenstone a Horcrux?

The man looked at me oddly and shook his head. "No, my dear. You seem to be confused. I am Gandalf the Grey." He said. Gandalf? Like in helps Frodo in the quest Gandalf? The guy who befriends crazy cool horses and comes back from the dead?

"The fireworks guy?" He pursed his lips at me and hummed while leaning on his staff. "I mean… that dragon one was pretty bad ass."

His brow crinkled further, deepening the deep crevices in his face. "The dragon?" he asked.

"Nevermind." Apparently my heatstroke brain can't even keep my characters in the know about themselves. Just great. And then I heard a steady thumping coming from my right, followed by more rustling and deep baritone murmurings. Turning my head, frizzy brown curls flying across my eyes I could feel my face contorting into one of those unattractive 'da fauq' looks when the group came barreling out the bushed.

Hair. Everywhere. Braided and swirled and bejeweled like nothing I'd ever seen. Some of their eyebrows were tufted out past their cheeks, while mustaches were braided just as much as their hair. Some looked like their hair and their beards weren't separated, but growing as one profound entity on their face. It was like Chubaka and a midget had a heard of children.

"Gandalf? " A gruff voice asked. He was the less hairy of the bunch, his dark hair falling to his shoulders accompanied by silver strands. His beard was short and trimmed. His eyes a beautiful blue. He was dressed in renaissance garb like the rest. Tunics and chainmail with heavy boots. I could hear Gandalf saying something, but then I met those blue eyes and my hands suddenly burned, and my world went black.


	3. Trolls in the Dungeon!

**Part Three! Thank you to all who followed and favored. A big thanks to SleepiPanda, the mysterious narrator, and skepticalfox for leaving a review** **I really appreciate your thoughts and feedback!**

Hangovers. We've all been there, right? You start out telling yourself 'I'll just have a beer.' Then suddenly you've won four games of beer pong, polished off a bottle of tequila, and have just found the jell-o shot table. Throw in the point where it all suddenly hits you and you _know_ you're going to be in deep shit tomorrow but you say 'fuck it;' toss back another shot and grab someone to help you unbutton your pants in the bathroom because your fingers just _won't work_. Then you pass out and wake up fourteen hours later feeling like you got hit by all eighteen wheels of a semi after losing a match against Muhammad Ali.

Well, needless to say that's apparently how it feels when startlingly beautiful blue eyes meet your own. Did I faint? Does a bolt of electricity go through you and send fire to your hands when you faint? Probably not. Maybe I'm in a coma and had a seizure.

That's more likely.

OR maybe Gandaldor or whoever he's claiming to be today pulled an Avada on me and I've got a lightning bolt scar on my forehead.

Also possible.

As my self-pitying thoughts ran amuck in my pounding head I caught those deep baritones thumping along again. A flicker every once in a while would bounce against my closed eyelids as I tried to decide if getting up and talking to my coma characters was worth it or if I should clench my lids shut and sleep for that solid fourteen.

"We know you're awake my dear." Damn old men.

"I thought hearing loss was common when you were about three-hundred and five?" What can I say? Hung-over Rory is a regular Georgia Peach. I heard a snort somewhere on my left as I clenched my eyes tight one last time before cranking them open. Blinking quickly I tried reevaluate my surroundings. Dark, shadowy trees lined the sky above me, the flickering light that was dancing around to my right was a raging fire, and all the hairy men were sitting around, staring at me.

Gandalf snorted again and looked down at me. Weren't you supposed to shrink when you got old too? This guy had to be pushing six feet.

"Since you hit your head rather roughly, I do think I'll ignore that." He said, a twitch on his lips as I sat up, cradling my head in my hands as a wave of dizzying nausea ripped through me.

"How kind." I said, leaning back on my hands I looked around at everyone, who was in turn staring at me. We must have sat like that for about five minutes. Me looking around, making eye contact with everyone, while they never strayed from me. "Where am I?"

If I'm going to be stuck in a dream land for however long I might as well play along right? Making friends can't be too hard in my own head.

"Somewhere between Bree and Rivendell."

"I'm sorry where now?"

"Lassie, are you feeling alright?" A stout, red headed man asked me. He was all width and no height, with jewels intricately woven throughout his beard. He was wearing a forest green… tunic? Embroidered with swirls and lines of a slightly harder green, his pants tight, and an axe sitting by his feet. As intimidating as he looked, when I looked into his eyes I could see a softness.

"Uh, well no." I said, trying to throw a little smile his way but it probably looked more like a contortion of pain instead. "I mean I think I just fell from the sky. Or some sand tornado or something. And I didn't even get a pair of red shoes at the end of the ride! Not to mention I feel like I could York up my meals from the last month." I looked at the fire, my head calming down.

"I did not know women just fell from the sky." It was that voice again, the same one that lead me to a face plant on the nice soft dirt floor. I tensed for a moment, fighting the want to look up with the want of not passing out again.

"Neither did I." Hell, I'll chance it. I lifted my head slowly, looking around for him in the flickering light of the fire. When I finally met his eyes again, I felt a tingle- though it could have been reflex- but no fainting. I sighed, and noticed his body relaxed as well.

"Interesting…." The grey wizard hummed, looking between me and the dark haired man. "It seems the reaction the two of you had was a one time occurrence. Thankfully, for we would get nothing accomplished if the two of you would continue to lose consciousness by a passing glance." I whipped around to him, wrinkled lips sucking smoke out of an outrageously long pipe before he turned and coughed, little puffs floating out of his mouth and into the sky.

"The two of us?" I leaned I little closer to the stranger , and as the flicker passed his way I noticed his right eye was a deep purple, swollen around the edges, like he'd been clocked by a huge fist.

"Yes. It seems when you locked eyes with one another you had some sort of reaction. As you fell backwards onto a particularly large tree root, Thorin here unfortunately landed on the hilt of his sword." I could see the mischievous look on his aged face and the hint of laughter in his voice.

"Yes," The man-Thorin, spoke again. "When I awoke I had wondered what witchery had befallen me, but it turns out you were in far worse shape than myself." He peered at me, looking me up and down and it was then I took stock of myself. Same sweaty t shirt and khaki pants tucked into large black boots I had been wearing before all the crazy. For all this imagining I was doing I couldn't think up a flattering outfit? The sweat stains were still there, imprinted in the fabric!

"This girl is no witch, Thorin." Gandalf said again, cutting me off before I even had a chance to get a word in.

Rude.

"Though there is magic in the air. It sparked when you saw one another. Quite fascinating I must say. I haven't seen a tie like this in over an age. Tell me dear, from where do you hail?"

It took me a moment to collect the words and reoder them into 20th century speak before I could answer. "Uh… Chicago."

"Do not lie, girl!" Thorin said, looking annoyed. "There is no Shheekago in all of Middle Earth." She-what now? Ha-ha. Oh god.

"Yeah you're probably right. There's not one of those where I come from either- but there is a Chicago. Home of the deep dish pizza, Twinkies, The White Sox, and PBR. You know, the place where _Playboy_ started?" I was only meant with blank stares around the campfire. I'm guessing they've never seen a Playboy. Which I'm sorry to say, is pathetic.

Thorin scrunched his eyes closed, hand coming up to massage his temples. "Gandalf, this girl is playing games with us." He said, the annoyance he found at my answer clear in his voice. The old man was silent a moment, watching me intensely before muttering something under his breath and waving his walking stick around in a circle. I could feel a breeze circle me, twisting my hair around my face and for a moment I thought I would be going on another twister ride, but all it did was tease my hair, tickling my nose before it blew past me. Meanwhile, Gandalf's slight upturned lips lifted into a grin.

"How interesting." He mumbled, reaching out his stick towards me. Thorin grumbled something to the man (in a large floppy hat) sitting next to him- that suspiciously sounded like 'that girl.'

"it's _Rory_ , in case you were so inclined to know. I do have a name. I'm not some Panda parading around in a zoo th-OW!" A shock ripped through me, zipping through my body and behind my eyes. I whipped over towards Gandalf who had just tried to fry me with his stick.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you some crazy manic squad that goes around hurting people? You're sick! You'd think the knot on my head would be enough for one day." Was I twitching? I felt like I should be. All Gandalf did was look interested in his stick, while I swear my hair was standing on end.

"How very interesting." He said again, "Thorin, this gi-Er- _Rory_ , is indeed telling the truth. A familiar magic runs through her, one that I have not felt in such a concentrated force. She is here for a purpose- whatever that may be…. But I think it deals with your company. For those not of this world are hardly brought in for trivial matters."

Annd my headaches back. From what I can see of Thorin it looks like his had as intensified. It's probably not the time to ask for an Advil. "But, that can be looked at when we have had more rest. However, Thorin, I do think it's best if we leave this place and find another shelter this night. The farmer and his wife did not disappear on their own accord."

Thorin stared hard at the man before denying the claim, saying it was already too late to be traipsing about the wild with nothing to see but their feet in front of them. Which I could totally agree with- though now didn't seem like the time to butt in. They were quite at odds with one another, with their quiet arguing before Gandalf announced his leave to seek someone with some sense. Again, rude.

It was then a rather rotund man, being probably embarrassingly wider than my door opening at home, with ginger hair, a huge beard that was parted in half and seemed to round out and into his hair, equally large eye brows, and a kind smile announced dinner, and a bowl of stew was shoved into my hands. I ate it, because as I stated before I wasn't really one to turn down offered food, when the man next to Thorin, with a floppy hat turned and smiled at me. "So lassie, what do you think had you and Thorin so struck at one another?" He asked cheerfully, like he didn't just insinuate that I had some weird thing going on with some stranger I didn't know.

Both Thorin and I opened our mouths at the same time when a thundering sound came barreling through the trees. Two younger men- with not _as_ much hair as the rest came bursting through the bushes, chests heaving and hands on their knees.

"Thorin!" One said, he looked fair haired, wearing just as much bulk as all the others, but with a fine goatee and… braided moustache? "Trolls took the ponies!" He heaved, clamoring up and pulling the dark haired one- with hardly anything more than a five-o-clock shadow- with him.

I had to silently laugh a little ' _Troll! Troll! Troll in the dungeon… thought you ought to know.'_

No? No one?

"We told him to wait, but Biblo went to try and free them himself." The other said, looking over to the rest of the group. I watched Thorin- his headache face hardening to one of anger. He stood, and the rest followed, the sound of metal sliding against metal flowed into my ears and swords were drawn. My anxiety at being sliced by one of those was just rising when those blue eyes turned to me once again and said 'Stay put' before he took off, the rest flying behind him.

Ch. Tell me. I'll do what I want.

And so I followed, up sloped and around bends, dodging trees as fast as I could. Every so often there'd be a huge dip in the ground, like a large puddle… That seemed to happen every so many feet. It was so repetitive I began to wonder if they were going in circles. Unfortunately I'm no good at multitasking, which apparently also involves thinking and running because at that moment my foot caught a root ( were they out to get me?) and I tumbled over, face first into the leaf covered floor. Rising up, pulling the twigs and grass out of my hair I looked around, not finding anymore running men, but hearing faint shouting in the distance. I took off again, slowing down as I heard the distinctive _clang_ of metal on metal. I walked forward, bending branches and pushing away leaves as I came closer to the light.

A large area was lit up by and even larger fire, a pen at the back kept what I assumed were the lost ponies locked up tight. The men I'd been sitting with for a time were running, yelling and slicing away with sharp looking swords, hair and beads whipping every which way.

"Drop your arms or we'll rip his off!" A booming voice set, the trees swaying with the force of it. I looked up as the clanging of heavy weapons hitting the ground pierced the air. Tall, thick, scaly feet attached to equally disgusting legs rose up, up into the air-

"What the f-"


	4. For Sparta!

**The next one will have more communication with the company, I really wanted this chapter to show Rory dealing with herself and an awful situation she finds herself in! A little insight into the character for you.**

Trolls.

Fucking _trolls_! And not the 'sits under a bridge exchanging riddles for passage' type trolls. No. Three huge, leather- skinned, pug-faced, giant ass behemoths stood in the clearing currently bagging up the cavalry as I hid behind the shrubs and bushes trying not to wet myself. If I were a better person, I'd go charging out there with all the guts and glory of Leonidas when he charges against the Persian army. But this wasn't Sparta,( though I assume the stench these beasts were emitting would be the exact putrid smell that would be coming from the pit in Sparta) and I wasn't Leonidas. I was Rory. Overweight, un-athletic, and scared shitless.

I'm not proud of these traits, but I can admit to them.

I was so shocked at the scene that was playing out in front of me that I missed half a conversation, only catching when the monster said something about 'eating before the sun comes up because he wouldn't fancy being turned to stone' and then they took a few of the men and tied them around a large spigot and began to try to roast them over the large fire. I could feel the bile rise in my throat, watching someone slowly burn alive not my idea of a holiday vacation. It was as I was sitting there, watching the impending doom of the people who were actually kind enough to wait around until I woke up from fainting that I decided that I would have to at least _try_ something.

I couldn't live with myself if I just sat around and watched people die… and then get eaten. And so, with not a plan in my head I started moving, taking care to be as quiet as I expect a clumsy buffoon bumbling around in the forest at night could be, I skirted my way around the camp- just as the smallest of the men started talking something about seasoning.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" One voice boomed, shaking the ground slightly as he took and step towards the group. I lost my balance as the ground seemed to tilt with his movements.

"Shut up and let the…. Uh, flurgerburbur-hobbit talk." That caused me to pause. A flurger-what now? And then (and I seriously couldn't make this up if I could) the little man shouts up, "You've got to skin them first!" the sting of the bile was back as it rose towards my throat. I tried my hardest to keep it under control, the thought of retching too loudly and being in one of those sacks on the 'skin list' enough to keep my bodily functions under control for the time being. Was this guy in with the big scaly men? These creatures that seemed like the weirdly imbred babies of Jabba the Hut and Godzilla's redneck children and this small but normal looking man in cahoots to Jeffery Dahmer these people?

Now I definitely couldn't just sit around or run away knowing this was going to happen. Jesus. Think Rory- _think_. Get your disgustingly terrified self together and think of a non engaging plan to help them.

My anxiety was teetering on an all new level as my breathing became ragged and my palms started to sweat. I could feel my pulse beating within my ears as I awkwardly stepped around the brush, feeling like I outside my body, the world looking blurred and foggy. As I tuned out the rest of the conversation and managed to make it across the camp in one piece I looked around, trying to think of something I could do to help.

But they were so huge! So ungodly big I didn't think I could find anything big enough that I could handle that would even cause them a mild headache! I whipped my head back and forth, searching for anything, my eyes scrunching up as the light of dawn momentarily blinded me.

That's when it hit me.

' _I don't fancy being turned to stone.'_

' _Before the sun comes up.'_

Would the sun…. cause them to become statues?

Hell, after a piece of jewelry melting my hands, a man's eyes causing me to have a fit, and an old man shocking me with a walking stick anything is possible right? I just need to calm the hell down and think of something, but these men yelling and screaming at these giants isn't helping at all.

Taking a deep breath, pulse still beating hard in my ears I looked at the closest sacked man and decided if anything, I could tell them to stall for time until I could try to think of something.

Cautiously I crept forward, deciding to create steps. Planning always helped me calm myself down. Lists and breaking things down help keep me grounded.

 **Step one** : Don't get caught.

There was a large wall to the right of me, made up of large boulders setting atop one another to create a partial barrier from the outside world. It didn't look natural, but like something huge stacked them on one another. Peaking around I caught a familiar glimpse of silver streaked hair.

 **Step two** : Get only the right persons attention.

"Psst….Psst- Thorin!" I yelled in the best whisper I could. Hoping he'd be able to hear me amongst the shouting and arguing his companions were doing.

He turned his head.

Thank god.

His eyes bugged out of his head, making him look like a tree frog for a moment before he fiercely whispered-

"Lady Rory! What are you doing here? I expressly told you _to stay at camp_."

And I'd thank you kindly to _not_ _to call attention to me._

"So not the time!" I said, making a point to whisper. "Stall for time. Until the sun comes up!" I said, and his eyes shrunk, understanding lighting his face as he quickly turned and kicked someone in front of him.

Suddenly calls of people having 'worms as big as their arms' were shouted into the air. I made it a point to ignore my stomach this time, trying hard to initiate **step three** : find something to help get the sun to the trolls.

I slipped around the wall, thanking whoever was watching out for me that I hadn't been seen. Though I was sweating up a storm from the pure terror I felt. I scatted around the wall, looking around until my eyes landed toward the top. A huge stone was sitting alone on the top, blocking the dawn from breaking through the camp.

If that stone could be knocked over….

That is if my assumptions were correct and these bastards kryptonite _was_ the sun.

Now to get up there.

I took another deep breath, silently willing my thunder thighs to make it up the wall, while simultaneously cursing myself for having my mom write a note during rock climbing week in gym my senior year.

Eat another doughnut, Rory.

I grabbed on to the rock, the rough edges biting into the soft tips of my fingers where I had bitten the nail down too far the day before. Hefting myself up I found a foothold and began scaling the wall, the sweat dripping down my face by the time I made it less than halfway up the wall. My arms screamed and my legs shook, the strength needed to hold my own body weight up straining my limbs while the terror I felt for the group below kept me going.

Once I grabbed the top of the ledge I lifting myself up, grunting as my foot slipped. Once I was fully on the top I laid my face on the cool rock, my breath shaking as it left my mouth. But there wasn't time for calming down- time was of the essence.

Bouncing up and rolling on my heels I ran for the boulder, ramming my entire weight against it, willing it to budge and roll off the ridge, and maybe dropping on one of the trolls head. The rock held its ground, laughing at my pitiful attempt at moving it.

The sweat drops were rolling steadily down now, sticking my bangs to my forehead, wetting the collar of my shirt and making my skin stick to itself when I moved my neck. This is one of those times I wanted the pure adrenalin people got that allowed them to lift cars off of people by themselves. Backing up I bent at the knees, pushing off with my left foot as I ran once more full force toward the rock and slammed against it, my cheek scraping against the jagged surface. I bounced back, falling on my backside, trying to catch my breath when I felt a breeze fly past me and the light brush of material against my wet arm before I looked up and saw grey.

Gandalf raised his staff, slamming it against the rock and it quickly split down the middle as he yelled " _May the dawn take you all!"_ loud screeches promptly following from below as the sun streamed below.

I stared at the ancient looking man in shock as he turned around and gave me a smile and a wink, cheering from the men below ringing out in the silent of the forest.

"Come now, my dear." He said, holding out his hand. "We've got to go help them out of those sacks." I took his hand in my own, numbly following him to the edge of the wall we were standing on, and as I clamored down after him all I could think was:

 _How did this old man get up here without breaking a hip?_

 _ **I'd like to give a huge shout out to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story last chapter. I really appreciate it and I'm so glad you all like this story so far and seem to like Rory so much. I love hearing what you think, so drop me a message**_ __ _ **Until next time!**_


	5. Lady Thorin

**Chapter 5! My little one decided to take an extra long nap and I surprisingly had all my house-and-yard-work done so I had some time to start on this. I have to say that I really love this story and I love who Rory has created herself to be and I get so happy sitting down and writing her. Now, I know my Thorin probably seems ooc at the end here, but I have reasons for that. Since I like the idea that dwarves cherish their women and all that chivalrous stuff would it really make sense that- seeing as it would be ingrained in them since they were young (** _ **and**_ **he's of a royal line) would it really make sense that he'd be this awful asshole just because he's sketched out by her? I wouldn't think so. A man, yes. But you can be civil and untrusting, and that's how I feel he would be. Now, off you go to read this chapter!**

You know the saying 'It's all downhill from here?' A saying that insinuates the rough patch is over, and it's all easy goings for the rest of the ride? Well, I'll have you know that going down the hill might be loads easier than going up the hill, but going down the rock wall is just as terrifying and treacherous as going up the rock wall. I was slipping and sliding, the thin material of my pants catching and tearing on the serrated edges that jutted out of the structure, meanwhile Gandalf maneuvered himself down with all the grace and ease of a swan on a holiday retreat. Not a pant or labored breath to be heard. Then there's me, who was probably breathing louder than a woman in labor.

Once my feet hit solid ground (about 5 minutes after Gandalf's did), I hunched over and leaned my hands on my knees, the terror I'd been trying to corral in hitting me hard. I could feel my body shake and my legs tremble, breathing quieting down but not calming down.

"Now, now, Rory." Gandalf said in that patronizing grandfatherly voice of his, "We mustn't break down now. You've been handling yourself well so far and there's much to do."

"My god those guys almost _died_. They almost _died_ and got _eaten by trolls_!" I said, and even I could hear the hysterical tone of my voice. How can he stand here and be so blasé about this whole thing? I mean honestly, if he wasn't there in time with what is apparently the most deceiving walking stick in the world, and those men couldn't have stalled for all the time they needed they'd be troll kibble. Because let's face it- I wouldn't have gotten that boulder to move.

He hummed, which I was beginning to notice was a habit of his, and crouched down to my level. Seriously, how tall _was_ this guy?

"But they did not die. In fact, aside from maybe a few charred parts, they are all whole and very much alive." Was this some sort of sick joke to him? I turned my eyes up, looking into his.

"I don't think you're getting the seriousness of this whole thing. Those three giant monsters almost _ate_ a group of people! And I think that really tiny guy was in cahoots with them! He was telling them the best way to cook _people_!" At this Gandalf let out a hearty laugh, and I was beginning to think that maybe this guy wasn't all there. Maybe the Alzheimer's _has_ begun to kick in.

"My dear Rory, Biblo wouldn't hurt a soul." He said, his words so sincere I was almost convinced of their truthfulness. "He was simply stalling for time. Though I must say the topic for said stalling was poorly thought out, but all that was in his heart was helping. In the only thing he saw he could do. Much like yourself." As he said this his arm hooked under mine, helping he to stand upright and dusted his robes off, leaning against that damn walking stick again as he waited. For real, what was in that thing, unicorn hair? Phoenix feather?

I took a deep breath again, trying to reign in the panic for another time and crossed my arms, waiting for him to tell me what the next step was.

"We need to help release the dwarves from their prisons. Why don't you go over to the pile of weapons the trolls confiscated and find something to start cutting them out of those sacks?" One of those asked as a question but more of a command type deals. I guess when you're pushing a millennia you master those kinds of things.

I nodded and started hiking over to the pile farthest from the site, maneuvering around the large stone feet of the statued trolls as the whoops and hollers of victory rang through the air.

The weapons mound was full of axes and swords alike, all looking shined and sharpened to their full potential. Meaning- it wasn't something I was particularly ready to dig through. As luck would have it though, my need to get the hell out of this stone troll trap was greater than my fear of accidentally chopping off a limb. So with a quick prayer to any god who was listening at the time to help me control my clumsy tendencies for the time being, I gripped the handle of a particularly large hammer and tossed it to the side.

The clanging of metal only seized when I managed to find what appeared to be one of the first pocket knives ever made. One without a retractable blade to help ensure you didn't stab yourself. It was small enough that it could easily slide behind the rope of the sacks and I could saw through it, and not so heavy that I'd topple over and stab myself through.

I managed to make my way back without impaling myself and set about freeing everyone I could. As they became released from the sacks, each one stood up and stretched, and I noticed they were all in long underwear. My god, is that what they wear for underwear? Me-ow.

Once they were freed, Gandalf took Thorin aside and the rest went to free whomever was on the spigot. Leave it to a bunch of men to not have a plan, because once the rope was cut they all fell (from quite a distance) into a pile on the ground, groaning and telling at each other.

Once everyone was freed and dressed they all gathered around, looking at Gandalf and Thorin.

"Ahem." Gandalf said, sliding an annoyed look to his neighbor. "I believe at this time, it is imperative you all introduce yourself to Miss Rory." Right, since I've just seen you all in your skeevies. It's probably that time in the relationship to know names.

And so I was officially introduced to the Company of Thorin Oakensheild. Each one saying their name with an 'at your service' after, followed by a courteous bow, some of the longer beards scraping against the floor. I noticed that more than some of the names rhymed with one another. Must be a cultural thing.

While introductions were going on I saw Gandalf and Thorin talking, heads held close as whispers were exchanged. Then, Thorin announced there would be a journey to go find the troll hoard and see what treasures the foul creatures had pilfered and stockpiled for themselves. I lagged behind, not wanting to be the one who fell and created a domino effect for the rest of them. That, and some of them looked so intimidating (cough, Dwalin, cough) that I was perfectly fine to be traipsing about in my own little pity party.

I'm not sure which I hated more at this point. Trudging through sand, or falling over rocks and roots. They had decided to load the ponies they had saved as some others gathered the ones that were left at camp previously and walk them the way to the hoard, not having a convenient walking path to maneuver them on. Which sucked for some of us who still haven't perfected the fine art of walking.

Jesus, Rory you're so embarrassing.

After what seemed like seven days and seven nights of continuous walking, with men doing the things men do (which made me regret being at the back of everything), we reached a cave. You couldn't get within ten feet of the damn thing without wanting to puke. Ugh, I bet this is what _I_ was beginning to smell like. Even so, I couldn't understand what everyone was so happy about. A couple of trolls stole some shit and hid it in a cave that was apparently also what they deemed suitable for a bathroom.

So, after smelling that, I must say you wouldn't catch me running in that putrid stank if you told me there were jewels as big as my head. Though, considering what happened the last time I picked up something that sparkled I guess that really doesn't do much to get my point across.

Of course the men of this fine group didn't seem to bat an eyelash at the odor- probably because men naturally like gross and disgusting things- and slid right on down. Leaving me, the ponies, and a particularly older looking pot bellied man, whom if I remember right was named Balin, behind.

"Not curious, Lass?" He asked, sliding up to me. He was quite short (at least _he_ got the memo about shrinking when you get old), with a beautiful white beard, the color of freshly fallen snow, that split at the end and turned up like a old western cowboys mustache. His hair was equally white, and the wrinkles weren't as deep as Gandalf's, though the ones around his eyes suggested that he crinkled them quite a bit.

"If that smell is anything to go buy anything remotely worth anything at all would take about a years worth of bleach and soaking to get the smell out. If that." I said, wondering if they even had bleach around here. If he'd never heard of it he gave it no mind and chuckled a little, those eyes crinkling and lifting the lines around them.

"Ah yes, troll hoards are notoriously known for their stench."

"Noted. Not something I'd like to be known for." And from the way he sideswiped me with a glance and upturned eyebrow I wasn't doing a good job of that.

"I don't _normally_ smell like this. It's been a rough couple of days." I said defensively.

"I said nothing of the sort, my Lady."

"Well… your look insinuated."

"My apologies." I sighed. It really wasn't his fault.

"Sorry. I get moody when I smell like a dead raccoon soaking in the sun for four days." Why couldn't I dream up a place with running water?

"Not to worry lassie," he chuckled again, " after being shoved in those sacks none of us smell like a fresh rose either."

"Ha. Yeah I guess not. It's nice to be part of the group I guess."

"I'd like to thank you, since it seems it has been lost on our company."

"Thank me? For what? Falling through the sky? Maybe for knocking your leader out and getting him clocked in the face with his own sword? I could go on." More laughter. This time he bent at the waist a little, whipping his eyes. Shit, maybe I should be the newest medieval comedian.

"Don't tell Thorin I said so, but it was quite comical- watching him fall like that. After we found out he was aright of course."

"Of course."

"I meant to thank you for trying to help us. This is no place for a lady, but you sacrificed your safety to try to help us, and for that we are thankful. Even though it seems most are too stubborn to admit as such." He said, his eyes glancing up to mine in earnestly.

"Just being a good Samaritan and all."

"Is that what you are? A Samaritan?" ….Oh good lord.

"Uh… yeah."

"Fascinating. I'd never heard of you. Though I'd never heard of a Chicago until last night either." Well now you're committed, Rory. Just let those lies roll off your tongue. That's how you make friends.

"We're a secretive people."

"As are dwarves. Though I remember Gandalf mention something of you not being from this world." Well, Hell. From the look he gave me I couldn't quite tell if he fully believed my story or not, but like I said, I'm committed so I'm just going to have to run with it.

"You know, you're nothing like the dwarves back home." OR switch the subject. That usually works. "I mean, where I come from a dwarf is just like…." God, don't say something stupid. "a condition. Where you don't get as big as everyone else. In most of the dwarves I've seen their torso is long, and their legs and arms short." He stared at me, a complex look on his features as he processed the information.

"An interesting place you hale from, I'd wager."

"Yup." Nothing like there though. What would he have to say if I told him about a toaster?

Stop, Rory. This isn't the time.

Eventually the dwarves began meandering out, some with souvenirs from the cave, some with nothing. As they all gathered together I felt it become increasingly awkward as Gandalf and Thorin once again stood off to the side conversing, Balin taking the initiative to go and join them. I felt a little put off, it was like they were the cool kids at the table and the rest of us were the skinny geeks that got pushed into lockers.

Except that bald one. He'd probably be the one pushing the rest of us into lockers. I watched in fascination as they seemed to argue with one another, Thorin finally dropping his head and conceding to whatever the other two agreed upon. When they came over Thorin announced they would travel far enough to get away from the smell, then make camp, since it took a good part of the day to actually make it here.

We walked about two miles before finding a clearing that they all deemed suitable enough to make camp and soon everyone was designated a task (apparently mine was to stand around and look pretty) and got right to work. I noticed Gandalf disappear amongst the forest and decided to sit around and wait to see what would happen next.

"Ah, My dear." Gandalf said, saddling up next to me as we watched the guys gather their things together and start setting up camp for the night. I still wasn't sure if the trolls would stay stone when the sun set or if they'd come back to life like Goliath and the gang did in _Gargoyles_. I shifted my gaze up to him.

"Sup?" strategically ignoring my modern day slang he continued on, his voice hitching up a notch in volume so it discreetly resonated throughout the camp.

"I noticed a stream to the side of our camp when I did a brief walk through. I wonder, if you should like to wash up, and perhaps change clothes? I'm sure between the fifteen of us we could find you something a little more… appropriate to wear." I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks as they turned what I assume was a candy apple red, as calls of 'I should have a spare tunic here somewhere.' And 'Kili! Lad do you have extra trousers? I think the lass would fit yours.' 'Socks over here!' 'I've got a few bars of soap!' That one did me in. I groaned, hands sliding down my face.

"Um, yes, sure. I'd love to feel more like a person, less like I troll." Really I couldn't tell if the troll hoard smelled like me or I smelled like the hoard. Clicking his tongue Gandlaf looked around the camp as dwarves (Are they really? When I think of medieval dwarves I picture like tons of Tyrion Lannisters.) gathered their borrowed things into one bag.

"I should think these dwarves have much to do, and I should like to scout the other way for a time. Thorin will escort you." I cringed a little, looking over as said man whipped his body around, eyes glaring at the wizard.

"Now Thorin, everyone else is readying camp. And as the leader of this company I would think you would like to show proper initiative when in the presence of a lady." I swear to god he was grinding his teeth as he stomped over to the bag, snatched it up , and came to stand by us.

"It would be my pleasure to escort Lady Rory to the stream." He said, though it sounded more like a growl to me.

"Excellent!" Gandalf said merrily, as though he won the jackpot on the slot machine. He sauntered off, on the way ensuring the others that once I came back they would have their turn to wash away the troll stank that lingered from the sacks.

Thorin turned toward where Gandlaf had previously scoped the perimeter, while muttering a 'This was my lady." Before launching ahead of me. I followed in silence for a few moments before it began to eat away at my resolve.

"Ugh, about that 'Lady' stuff you're all about here… like I get that you're all chivalrous and gentlemanly but, uh, seriously, I think I'm more of a sailor than a lady." We both stood facing each other, his impeccably sharp features watching my own with a confused expression. God, he didn't get it did he? "Um… you know the saying 'swears like a sailor?'" More staring, though his mouth was quirking up a little at the side. "I'm just saying that's more me than the 'sits around drinking wine and eating fruit while lounging on a chaise watching the sunset.'" He blinked. "…Actually now that I think about it that _does_ kind of sound like me- if you substitute wine for tequila; and fruit for tacos; and a chaise for my couch; and the sunset for Netflix I guess I'd be a really foul-mouthed lady."

I got a small chuckle-turned-cough from him as he covered his mouth with his hand. I smiled a little; glad to see he could have a sense of humor when he wasn't in stoic and serious mode.

"Foul-mouthed lady or not that is still a lady." He said his voice deep and memorizing. As his words hit my ears I could feel that familiar tingle at the back of my neck before it hid away again.

"Where I'm from we don't use all those formalities. I'd prefer Rory. Unless you like all that unnecessary politeness then I'd be happy to call you _Lady Thorin_. I'd hate to be the uneducated slob of the bunch." I said as we pushed past tree branches and vines while trying not trip over rocks.

"I would think I am further from a lady than you." He said, catching a branch that slipped out of my grip and swung towards his face.

"Whoops, sorry." I said, "And I'm not so sure about that, I mean everyone's hair around here is so bejeweled, and here I am looking like the Swamp Thing. I'd say right now I'd play a better fairytale knight than you." Thorin was silent, but when I looked back I caught him shaking his head. It's always those tough old goats that are secretly sweet ya know? I guess it goes the same for people. Maybe it's that old age gentlemanly nature that makes him put up with me, because I have a suspicious feeling that if I had something long and proud between my legs I'd probably have that lengthy, shiny sword stuck through my stomach by now. And I'm certain that if I was a man decked out in an emerald headdress that seems to be common around here he'd be the one cussing like a sailor and demanding to know the _real_ answers to his questions.

Thank god for vaginas.

 _Finally_ , after tripping over some booby trap of a rock that seemed to spring up out of the ground from nowhere, and landing on my face in a pile of dirt, we made it to the clearing that housed the stream. My god, I know it'll probably be cold as ice but I swear to you when I laid my eyes on that glorious body of water the sky cleared and the sun shone making that water glitter like diamonds. It was heavenly, really. I could feel the body odor I've probably grown accustomed to by now almost scream in agony.

Hefting myself up onto my feet I spun around, the hair that wasn't caked onto my skin flipping about and I faced those dazzling blues again, a grin on my face.

"I am _so_ damn excited to _not smell_! This is the best thing that's happened in _weeks_. Because I was stuck in a desert before landing in this place and _that_ in itself was about as fun as stabbing myself in the leg." I rambled, grinning at him like a maniac.

He just stared at me for a beat, the calculating and hard demeanor he'd had before sliding back onto his face like it just got back from a weekend vacation. Then, nodding he told me he'd wait behind the tree until I was done and handed me the pack that the rest of the camp had scrounged up and turned to leave.

Well, I guess it'll take a little more time for my dazzling personality to wear him down and win him over. There will be time enough for that later, because right now I am _all_ about that water.

 **And another one comes to a close. A giant thank you to those who decided this story was worth a follow and a favorite! And a huge shout out to: xSiriuslyPadfoot, skepticalfox, shishiwastaken, and Kelwtim2spar for dropping a review last chapter** **I appreciate them so much!**


	6. Birthday Suit

**This story just writes itself. I had no clear picture on this chapter, except what I wanted it to lead up to towards the end. And so here we go, a little embarrassment on Thorin's part goes a long way. And of course our dear Rory is the epitome of humiliation. Hope you enjoy it.**

 **XXXXXXX**

Have you ever not showered or shaved or used deodorant for weeks on end? Have you ever smelled like the barn that Mary birthed Jesus in? If not you would never understand the absolute majesty that was the freezing cold stream water as I waded in, bare ass naked. And yes, I know I haven't been here for _weeks_ , but I think I've got enough sweat, dirt, and body odor of a person whose been doing their thang for a week and forgetting to shower.

It was definitely a new experience for me- bathing in nature. Even when the family went camping all the camp grounds had shower stalls, so there really wasn't a fear of anything… natural. And this place was about as natural and Amish as you could get. The bar of soap that was graciously supplied for me must have been a two –in-one hair and body type deal. It was rough and scratchy, some petals and seeds mixed up within it. It got the job done though, and surprisingly smelled wonderful, sweet and floral, which made me giggle a little at imagining which one of those burly men would secretly smell like daisies. I think it was that redhead… Gloin? Maybe he's got a sweetie back home that sent him off with her homemade soap. I was so lost in my thoughts of dainty smelling dwarves that I wasn't paying attention to the world around me, deciding that my curiosity of the men I traveled with took precedent over any unwanted visitors around me. So when a large, scaled, slippery fish brushed against my back as I was bending backwards to rinse my hair, it was no surprised that I let out a horrified shriek and hustled my ass out of that water faster than Quicksilver.

Hearing my screech of terror (which resembled the call of a pterodactyl), and being the middle age gentleman that he was, Thorin proceeded to gallantly burst forth through the trees, hair swinging gracefully side to side, sword drawn and glinting in the sunlight, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, showing off powerful forearms. Those blue eyes scanned the perimeter, looking for any threat that had meandered its way into the small clearing, and when coming up empty, landed on me. Bare as the day I was born, naked ass me. His eyes grew wide, and I noticed the redness instantly creep upon his entire face, beard not able to hide it all. Those large eyes I was watching as my own face lit up in+ embarrassment scanned my form before seeming to realize what they'd done and his spun around, just as I crouched to the ground and crossed my arms, trying to cover everything that needed covered. Though it was useless now, since he saw everything I had to offer.

Christ, Rory can you make anything more awkward?

His back was to me, no armor, just a once-white shirt and some pants. His head was bent, hair dropping down to hide him, as his hand was on his forehead, his waist dipping as he was bowed slightly. He cleared his throat.

"What frightened you, my lady?" He asked, his voice tight- as though he were trying to calm himself down.

"I think at this point that whole _my lady_ shit is a little overkill don't you?" I said, watching the Goosebumps raise up on my arms before covering my hands with my face, groaning. "It was a fish. It brushed up against me and scared me."

All was silent, both of us seemly too afraid to move in case the other did as well and we caught ourselves in the same situation again.

"A fish?" his voice was strangled, full of exasperation.

"Uh… yeah." I said, deciding to chance it and creep towards the bag of clothes. "Look it's not a big deal, okay? Let's just pretend it never happened." Denial is key in situations like this. He was silent again as I rifled through the bag, slipping on the pants and double knotting them before slipping on my wet bra that I'd tried to wash, and the large shirt overtop.

"Alright, I'm decent." I said the heat on my face lessening as I turned and faced him. He looked at me, his face tinting again as he cleared his throat, eyes looking anywhere but me.

"I'm am very sorry, My lady, for compromising your honor in such a way." He said, clearing his throat every couple of words as he continued to stare off to the side.

My _honor_? Well I'm pretty sure my honor was compromised way before this happened. Probably best _not_ to point that out.

"Hey, no biggie. I mean it's certainly not my proudest moment but shit happens, right?" His brow furrowed, still not looking at me.

"It... does indeed?" If I wasn't still reeling from this embarrassment I might have embarrassed myself further by bending over and laughing.

"It's a saying where I come from. Means things that are out of your control just happen. I mean, shit literally does happen or you'd die but …you know I'm just going to stop."

How can one person have so much awkward balled up inside of them? I'm like a giant cloud of uncomfortable.

However, by the way his mouth moved up the slightest bit at the corner I guess my ramblings weren't a total waste. You're awkwardly charming, Ror, roll with it.

"So… urm… should we go? I mean so you and everyone else can take a swing at a bath? I'll stay at camp, no peeking- promise!" Even though it would only be fair. My attempt at a joke failed and he waited a minute before puffing out the air from his cheeks and (still not looking at me) grabbed the bag filled with my dirty clothes and began trekking back through the trees.

The walk back was silent. Apparently neither one of us could fully pretend _it never happened_ , because once we reached camp and a few pairs of eyes turned towards us I could feel my face light up, creeping from the back of my neck up to my eyebrows. It's like my body thought everyone just knew what had happened by just looking at us, and loony as that was. I could see the two younger brothers (Kili and Fili?) look at each other with raised eyebrows, and then turn back to us. The blonde one had a smirk on his face while the other was bobbing his head between Thorin and me trying to find something amiss.

Damn my impeccably pale complexion.

I cleared my throat and thanked everyone for the things they borrowed me, and with a quiet 'it's all yours' they all swiftly stood up and headed out to clean themselves, leaving me, the ponies, and the tiny man alone. I still wasn't convinced he was some troll spy, despite Gandalf's 'good intentions' speech. We sat there watching the fire that was cooking something in a large black cast iron pot, the smell blowing through the light breeze that was there.

"Are you uh, not into baths?" I asked, turning towards him. Keep your enemies closer, right? He jumped a little, looking spooked that I had even spoken to him.

"W-well, I do." He said, looking up at me with innocent eyes. "I just don't fancy bathing with others." It was nice having some eye contact after the river debacle. Maybe I'll slap a half gold star under his name.

"Yeah, I hear ya. Getting clean with a bunch of hairy men doesn't sound too thrilling to me either." Who knows where else those guys have braids.

Ugh, now I'm imagining it.

Shaking my head of the images that were concocting themselves behind my eyes, I heard:

"I know you were introduced to everyone before, but I know from experience that that many people are hard to remember. I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins."

Huh, okay. Baggins was Frodo's last name. They've got to be related. Unless it's one of those really common last names.

"Nice to meet you," even though you're probably sending smoke signals to trolls later, "I'm Rory." He smiled, all large and bright, showing his teeth. The tops of his cheeks pushing against his eyes to squint them.

He's either really good at being inconspicuous or perhaps Gandalf was right.

Maybe.

Where was that old coot anyway?

"It's nice to have someone else who looks about as lost as I do." He said, picking at a loose button on his coat. Uh, thanks?

"Yeah I could see that. No one wants to be the odd one out." He nodded his head and was soon asking me about Chicago. So I told him the fun things, like the food trucks we had in one of the bigger parks one day, serving all kinds of fried deliciousness. I told him of the huge buildings, the guys that you can pay to drive you around in a little buggy while they pedal a bike. What the city looks like after the first snow of the year.

His eyes were like saucers, taking in everything I said asking if I had a map to the city I was raised in. I shook my head, getting ready to answer when the sound of stomping feet and mingling conversations filled the air moments before the group of dwarves popped back into camp, taking their designated seats as the large and in charge one took to the pot of food.

"Settling in, lassie?" One said as he plopped down next to me. I looked over and smiled immediately, he just had one of those faces you couldn't help but grin at. Not because he looked funny or anything-but he looked… mischievous. He had large bushy eye brows that puffed out at the edges, covering the chocolate-like brown eyes. His moustache was amazing and brown as well, twirling up at the edges dramatically, and atop his head a large brown hat that had two flaps on either side that sloped up and then curved back down again. He popped a carved pipe into his mouth and packed it down, taking a lighted stick from the fire and bringing it toward the bowl of the pipe, lighting it and sucking in.

"Oh yeah, for sure." I answered as he inhaled, puffing out a large cloud of suspicious smelling smoke a moment after. I looked around and noticed others pulling out their own pipes.

Were these guys a group of stoners?

Biblo had decided to toddle off. Either to take a dip in the river or send out those smoke signals I didn't know.

Once my neighbor took a few more puffs he asked how dinner was coming and soon bowls were passed around of what looked to be stew, and they all started laughing and singing. It was quite the sight.

"No need to be so shy, lass." Bofur- that was his name-said as he leaned closer. "We might be a bit rough around the edges but we know how to keep together when in the presence of a lady." Lady. I puffed my cheeks like a squirrel as I looked at him.

"I really all that lady crap. It's as bad as ma'am. I'm not a grandma." I said, crossing my arms as I saw Bilbo and Gandalf appear as twilight set in. Bofur laughed, light and airy, surprising since his voice was quite manly.

"A thousand pardons. What would you like instead."

"Rory, for about the hundredth time today."

"Rory it is."

"Will you actually use it or will you just keep on with the 'my lady' this and 'my lady' that like Thorin?"

His eyebrows rose and a grin made home on his face.

"You're as fiery as any Dwarrodam." A chuckle followed, "You must excuse Thorin. He was brought up a little more strict than the rest of us. Stuck in his ways."

"Like an old dog." I covered my mouth- not intending that thought to leave my mind, and I scanned the perimeter to see if anyone else had been paying attention. Bofur cackled, loud and unabashedly, slapping his knee and dropping his pipe.

"Never has a description fit so well." He was wiping his eyes as I felt the familiar heat rush to my cheeks as what seemed like thousands of stares looked our way, thanks to his manic laughter.

"Bofur! What's got you laughing so loudly over here." The young blond asked as he and his brother dropped down next to us, throwing a wink my way.

"God- _nothing_!" I sputtered, "Just some word vomit." The brown haired one (Kili- I'm getting good at this) looked disgusted for a minute, searching around for what I assume was literal bile on the ground. "I didn't actually puke."

"Thankfully." He said, looking to his brother and Bofur before slinging an arm around my shoulder. I have to say he was one of the more attractive ones- my preference always being more of the dark rugged type- the thought of 'dark and rugged' leading my mind over to the dark and rugged man who saw me naked, causing my blush to deepen.

Damn.

"I was wondering, Lady Rory, why you and Uncle came back so skittish around one another." I mumbled _just Rory_ again, wondering when they'd all get the hint, and looked up towards the sky, my mortification on level red. Then it hit me.

Uncle…

Uncle?

If at all possible more blood rushed up, and I was at a loss for any word excepy:

" _Nothing._ " Kili laughed, hugging my shoulders tighter and whispering, "You would not be so red you cast your own glow if that were the case." Then raising his voice he said, "Fili, she is as stubborn as Uncle with his 'nothing' answer." Fili- the blond, chuckled and shook his head, smirking over at me.

"I'm sure we'll find out in good time, brother. This is a small company, word gets around."

Oh god. And so they kept on their teasing until it was time for 'lights out' and the scarily huge man, Dwalin took first watch.

 **XXXXXXX**

Dawn came stampeding through the camp like a herd of wild buffalo, the sunlight slicing through the lids of my eyes. I groaned along with everyone else rising off of the rock infested ground, my joints popping and bones cracking when I moved. My hair was a mess, I could just feel it, frizzy curls bouncing in my face and tickling my nose, there was sleep in my eyes, and I'm pretty sure some drool on my cheek.

I'm a regular Julia Roberts when I wake up.

I watched everyone move in tandem, working together like a well oiled machine in order to get the camp cleaned up. I sat there, still in a sleeplike daze, the nasty taste in my mouth begging me to get a drink of water and some Colgate to wash it away.

"Up we go, lass." The dwarf named Gloin said, holding out a hand to help me up. I smiled at him, grabbing his calloused hand as he hoisted me up. "You'll get used to it." He said in a gruff tone, and I took it he meant waking up before the birds.

"Right. You can get used to anything after a while." I said, covering my mouth as a yawn escaped, wanting to shield him the dragon breath I was no doubt sporting.

After a light breakfast and some water (thank god), we were off, leading the ponies back the way we came and onto wherever the hell we were headed. My head and jaw still hurt from using a rock as a pillow the night before, so I didn't bother asking where exactly we were headed, because I was really starting to believe a comic con wasn't on the agenda.

We took a small break for lunch, which consisted of bread and some more water. They were real Dursleys about eating during the day- and we were off again. My thighs burned and my legs ached, and I almost whooped for joy when we came upon a path and decided to give the ponies a short reprieve before they would be mounted for the rest of the day.

I fell on my ass, not caring about the rocks digging in as I laid my arms and my head in my hands. This was probably the most working out I've gotten in my entire life, and I wasn't looking forward to more.

I was just about to sludge my way up and try to figure out who I'd hitch a ride with when everyone went still, and someone grabbed me and threw me in the middle of the group of dwarves, swords and axes drawn up.

Once it got loud enough for me to hear, the fast rustling of the foliage ahead of us, I felt my hands start to shake. Bilbo did it, he called the other trolls and now they're coming to avenge the others. I knew it. I _knew it_! And with a _whoosh_ something sprang out of the forest, fully sending me into a heart attack.

Giant rabbits pulling a shabby sled dove in, said sled skittering and sliding across the dirt floor and stopping just before the company. It's driver, a old man in brown robes and matching hat with (bird feces?) a large stick similar to Gandalf's, stood fast, shouting:

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" Looking around wildly, until Gandalf pulled his attention.

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown! What on earth are you doing here?" This your long lost cousin, Gan? Don't mind the rest of us that are having panic attacks, you just go on with your family reunion.

The two old codgers went off, stuck in wizard business that the rest of us lowly muggles weren't privy to hear. I felt like we were stuck in time, standing there forever, the company stuck in defense mode as they awaited the wizards.

However, I'm beginning to think someone around here is bad luck, because what came back with them was _not_ a fluffy bunny.

A giant scraggly wolf jumped out at us, black and hairy. Looking like it hadn't eaten in days. It's large canines chomping at any it could come in contact with. It knocked someone down- in the midst of the chaos I couldn't tell who- and Thorin attacked, killing it as another shot out and landed toward Kili. It was brought down as swiftly as it entered, after Kili's arrow failed to do it in, Dwalin's axe met its neck.

"Warg-Scouts! Which means and Orc pack is not far behind!" Thorin yelled, looking all of the company in the eye, including myself. I felt my face drop, wondering what the hell a orc was if it was sending these crazy wolves in to scout for them. I faintly heard Biblo squeak out 'Orc pack?" before Gandalf rounded in on Thorin.

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

"No one." He said, eyes darting to me for a moment before darting back.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf was quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with, the hidden anger unfurling with might.

"No one, I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?" Seriously, what _is_ going on, because my heart can't take it.

"You are being hunted." Oh. My. God. Don't faint, Rory. You don't want one of those Wargs to find you.

"We have to get out of here." Dwalin cut in, axe crossing against his chest.

"We can't!" The quiet monk-like one shouted, "We have no ponies; they bolted!" Jesus. I could feel my panic induced breathing become faster, and my palms becoming clammy. I could feel a hand on my shoulder, but it did nothing to detract from my terror. No ponies, no way out. There was no way something with two legs could outrun something with four.

"I'll draw them off." Radagast said, and in that moment I thought the leathery old man was the sweetest hero on this planet, because when I looked at the dead wargs on the ground and to his jumpy bunnies, I knew he was kidding himself.

"These are Gundabad Warge; they will outrun you." Gandalf said, trying to reason with his friend.

"These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I'd like to see them try." And he was off, this old man I hadn't been introduced to was taking a rabbit- drawn sleigh to try to outrun some super soldier wolves. If I ever get out of this alive and I can find his grave, I'm buying him a ton of flowers. And before I knew it shouts of "Come on!" "Stay together!" "Move!" were shouted and I was pulled into an open field…

 **XXXXXXX**

 **And that concludes the sixth installment of The Unanticipated Voyage for you all! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. A huge shout out to all that favorite and followed last chapter- I'm glad you liked it enough to keep track of it. And a super crazy troll-sized thank you to: skepticalfox, xSiriuslyPadfoot, Kelwtim2spar, chloejayne123, and Adeleidhis For taking time out to send me some reviews and your thoughts on the story. So glad you like it**


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